


Let Me Take Care of You

by Elphen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale feeding Crowley, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley loves it, Crowley trusts Aziraphale, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Feeling Safe, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Headspace, In a sense, M/M, Mental floating, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pet Names, Physical Relationship, Praise Kink, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sensations, Sensitive Crowley, Soft Dom Aziraphale, Sort Of, Support, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), gentle commands, he tries, sex against a window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphen/pseuds/Elphen
Summary: Aziraphale comes to visit Crowley at his flat for the first time since they survived their trials and...became more. Possibly out of nervousness, the demon has gone overboard on the catering.They indulge in the food and then in each other in a physical sense as Aziraphale discovers something about Crowley that he hadn't noticed before. Something...interesting and a bit unexpected.What is an angel to do but try and oblige, taking care of his demon as best he can?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 61
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know about the title but it'll have to do. The alternative was worse.
> 
> I admit, I was feeling rather...salty, I suppose, after all the work I put into the stories I posted in December, which...well, let's just say I had a thought like, 'Seems it's only smut that they like, well, then, let's give them some bleeding smut'.  
> Of course, I was forgetting one thing - me. I cannot write something without some set-up, not to mention I tend to veer towards smuff rather than smut. I have tried, though, same as with what I've tagged. I'm sorry if my writing doesn't live up to what you expect of a given tag.

The figure walked quite leisurely to the front of the building and then inside. To look at it, you wouldn’t for a moment think that they were going anywhere special or that their body thrummed with an odd kind of excitement that was tempered slightly by equal parts worry and nerves. Which was not the same thing at all, for all that they seemed like close synonyms.

Mostly, though, the excitement outweighed both worry and nerves. All three seemed not only odd for the environment, but incongruous with the calm way he progressed through the lobby, up the elevator and out onto the landing of the floor in question.

There was no need to check which door was the right one, and not because it was the only door on said landing. It seemed likely it’d be clear which door was the one needed, even if there were a dozen of them in a straight line, all alike.

That was probably only a fancy born of that excitement.

It was his first time here. Proper time, that was. He hadn’t registered much of anything the last time he’d been here and what he had registered had been covered in a veneer of fear and anxiety.

No matter. They were past that, now; somehow, they had pulled off the idea that they’d come up with and now they were…

Well, they were free.

Free to do whatever they wanted to, really. At first, they had both been very disbelieving of this fact. Habits die hard, after all, and needing to have, in the back of your mind, always the reminder that someone is keeping some kind of track – apart from the obvious candidate – of you, to your detriment, is even harder to shake.

Once it seemed it was honestly true, however, they gradually began to relax and with that relaxation came…other things. Courage, for one thing. Confidence, for another, though it was confidence speckled with their own various hiccups and issues.

However, the courage and confidence together was enough for…for both of them, really, to confess to…something more. As both had thought they would be confessing unrequited feelings, of one sort or another and to varying degrees, it had been…something of a mess, not least because they had ended up, by some happenstance, confessing at the very same time.

In the end, that might have been a mess, but it was quite the happy mess that he fondly looked back on already, even though it hadn’t been all that long ago.

Perhaps it felt like longer ago than it was because so much had happened between then and now. Maybe not as much by human standards but for them, most definitely. By their standards, it had been positively whirlwind speed.

Of course, it made a difference, too, that the things that had changed had been significant things as well. One might even say –

The door opened halfway through that thought, derailing it entirely.

You could just come in, you know,” came a voice from inside, though there seemed to be nobody on the other side of the door, “instead of standing there like some bloody door-to-door salesman.”

As though you would open the door to such a person,” Aziraphale said with a huff. He did step inside, though, shutting the door behind him. “Besides, there is no need to be rude just for the sake of it.”

“Like I am when I show up at the bookshop unannounced, you mean?” the voice called, loud and clear. Its owner was still nowhere to be seen.

“You know perfectly well that wasn’t what I meant at all. The two have nothing to do with each other.”

“You mean, the two instances of one person going the home of another person are so vastly different they couldn’t possibly be compared?”

Though the other was still very much hidden, Aziraphale could hear the raised eyebrow clear as day. Not unlike how he could see it clearly when it was hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

Well, yes, quite obviously. This is only my second time here, after all, and the first proper one whereas the number of times you’ve been to the bookshop – “

He was interrupted his time by a face appearing seemingly out of nowhere to stare at him from less than two inches away.

“Can’t only be the second time,” the owner said, looking all over the familiar features. “You’ve been here…then there was…you must’ve been here several times.”

I assure you, my dear, that I have only been here once before now, and a time at that which I do not think either of us want – “

No, definitely not,” Crowley interrupted, with emphasis. He gave the other a long, scrutinising look. Then, with a grin that barely had time to form, he closed the remaining distance and kissed the angel full on the lips.

It was possibly meant as a quick dart of a kiss, just to punctuate the sentiment and his arrival. Aziraphale was of a very different opinion and so pressed back to parlay for entrance. Entrance he was granted immediately, though there was no indication of surrender.

Back and forth the small battle raged, until, when they parted, both parties were slightly breathless and very pleased.

“Hello to you as well,” Aziraphale smiled.

“You can’t say hello in the middle of the conversation.”

“I can’t? Whoever invented such a ridiculous, useless rule?” The blond felt his free hand being caught and then tugged at, and he followed willingly into the flat proper.

“You, I believe.”

Aziraphale refused to rise to the bait. “Can’t have. Even if I had, for some unfathomable reason, since when do you follow rules?”

“Whenever they suit me, usually. Or don’t suit someone else.”

_Are you sure you’re a snake and not a cat, then?_ Aziraphale thought but was wise enough not to say out loud.

By this time, they were into the living room, if you could call it that. Technically, he supposed it was so, but with the sparse amount of furniture, to say the least, none of which seemed fitting for a living room, it was hard to classify it as such.

Office might be more appropriate or possibly, he thought as he let his eyes sweep over what was in there, some strange mixture of office, living and dining room. An all-in-one, only this wasn’t what he’d understood open living to be.

Admittedly, he wasn’t too up on current trends and the like – Crowley would ask what else was new if he voiced that out loud, of course – but there was something about this whole room that defied classification.

Then again, the whole flat did, which only made sense, because so did its owner.

Its owner who’d made good on his word, it seemed.

Crowley turned to regard the angel when he stopped in his tracks.

What’s wrong, angel?” he asked, quietly.

“Pardon?”

“Did I do something wrong?” Though the words were spoken calmly enough, to the point that they could easily be mistaken for nonchalant, Aziraphale spotted the uncertainty lurking in the wings.

“Oh, no. No, not at all, I just…wasn’t expecting this, that is all.”

‘This’ was a spread that seemed to take up the entirety of Crowley’s ostentatious table in the middle of the room, plates and bowls of all kinds obscuring the red of the marble almost completely. Filled bowls and plates, that was.

All of them filled with some kind of small but delectable treat.

“I can – we can go out if you want, instead.” Again the nonchalance and again the blond heard the slight stumble, the minute vibrato to the voice. “Just give me a moment to –“

Aziraphale’s hand shot out to halt the fingers that were already now pressing together, about to snap. Of course, the snap itself wasn’t actually necessary for the execution of the action, but the grip got the point across, nevertheless, and Crowley stopped.

“I was surprised, not alarmed or disgusted, dear, please don’t…don’t overanalyse.”

Crowley looked at him, his expression one of realisation that then morphed to gratefulness and relief. Then something tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Hello, pot,” he said.

“If I am anything, I should rather think I was the kettle.”

“Yeah. Course. Obvious. The huffing and puffing and all.”

“Careful now.”

“What, or you’ll blow my house down?” Something tugged hard and gave the hint of a smile a more proper half-grin. “Or something else, perhaps?”

For a split-second, Aziraphale looked taken aback at that. He did not, however, look scandalised or anything remotely like that, and after that initial shock, a smile spread across his features in turn.

“I can hardly start with dessert, though, can I? Especially not when you have made such a delectable-looking collection.”

“Just couldn’t work out whether you’d rather have one or the other and it sort of…spiralled on me?” the ginger mumbled, shrugging. The blond spotted the colour in his cheeks, though, and his smile widened further.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said warmly and pressed a kiss to the other’s cheek, squeezing the hand still in his. “I cannot wait to try it all. It looks scrumptious. All of it. You’ve outdone yourself.”

There was a noise that might’ve been a repressed, choked-off ‘nghk’ or similar at that, and Aziraphale’s smile turned a little bit more…thoughtful, one could say.

Well, there was something he’d noticed in that time between That Saturday and now. Perhaps it had been there before that point, but he’d only truly seen it come out after that point.

Something which he’d admittedly taken a bit of pain in the intervening time to tease out further instances of, for testing purposes and also because he was rewarded with such lovely reactions, small though they normally were.

Whether to go further with it was another question, though, and one which he wasn’t sure he should answer. At least, not outright. Perhaps it was better to wait and see…or test the waters gently.

Play it by ear, really. Regardless, it was sweet and wonderful as it was.

Walking further up to the table, Aziraphale noticed something else. Well, not to worry. There was nothing to say that he couldn’t –

Crowley had moved around and was pulling out a chair. The chair, you might say; the only one at the table. Just as Aziraphale remembered it from his last visit.

“Crowley?”

“Come on, sit. Ain’t a reception or something, I’m not going to have you standing while you eat.”

“One of us will have to, unless you have some kind of stool hidden away underneath.” Aziraphale tilted his head for a look. No, there was nothing.

He had no trouble with having to share a chair in some way but at the same time, it was a little cumbersome when you had to juggle a plate each as well. That said, it was fixable.

Before he could suggest such a thing, however, Crowley had come up with his own solution; jumping up, he wiggled on the spot, somehow creating a space for himself amongst the plates that not only somehow avoided sending any ceramic to the floor but was more or less directly in front of the chair.

“Sit,” the ginger repeated.

“You can’t possibly reach anything there, dear, that is not – “

“But then you’ll help me, won’t you?”

Aziraphale looked at the cocky smile and the way the other sat, with his legs somewhat spread and dangling back and forth where they hung over the edge of the table. Without a word, he sat himself down on the chair, which was just a bit more comfortable than it looked, not that that was hard, that was, difficult, then pulled said chair right up close.

Right up so that the legs now dangled on either side of him and he could feel the warmth coming off the skin being this close, even through the fabric of the clothes.

“Of course I’ll help. Always. Just say the word.” He placed a soft hand on top of the slim thigh, part of him marvelling in just being able to do that. “What would you like to have first?”

“Ehm…” Crowley seemed momentarily lost for words.

“Or should I see what I can find for us instead?”

He got a nod in reply and tore his gaze away to look at the spread. It really did seem as though Crowley had taken the concept of a smorgasbord and run with it, filling the table to the brim.

Whatever would he choose first? Well, he knew what he would like himself, but this was hardly about him, was it? Not right now, at any rate.

Something which would appeal to the snake, though…aha, there!

He reached over, using his hand on the other’s thigh to steady himself with, his fingers digging into flesh just a tiny bit, and grabbed a small bowl filled with what appeared to be scotch eggs. That should go down a treat for both of them.

When he sat back, he could see the other following his every move and leaning towards him ever so slightly.

Aziraphale put the bowl down, in his own lap, balancing it delicately – there had to be some benefits to have thighs a bit meatier than what was considered agreeable – and picked up an egg. He brought it up between them, as though to show it off. The ginger didn’t move, however, just continued to watch.

Oh, well, then.

The angel brought the morsel to his own lips and took a careful, though not a small bite. It was just right, the quality of the make elevating the snack into a proper treat. What was more, there was just the hint that there might be a bit more to it, should you continue to eat.

He may or may not have made a small noise himself at that, closing his eyes.

When he looked back up, Crowley was staring at him. Even through the sunglasses, Aziraphale knew that. Knew that gaze very well indeed, in fact. It never failed to make his mouth dry and his skin a little warm.

Possibly more than his skin if he was being entirely honest. He shifted a little where he st.

Ignoring that, as it wasn’t the time, he held up the morsel again and this time, Crowley stretched his head down and forward to grab it. Not take a bite of it but the rest of it, lips curling around the remainder of the egg and in the process, Aziraphale’s fingers, too. A tongue flickered ever so lightly against his fingers as it did so.

The lips withdrew slowly, the gaze never leaving him while the tongue flickered once, twice more, alighting nerves along already sensitive digits. When the lips were entirely removed, the egg was…well, to be honest, it was swallowed more than it was chewed. Almost gobbled, in point of fact.

Nevertheless, Aziraphale smiled.

“There we go,” he said, quietly, watching the other’s face keenly. “Well done, dear, and not a crumb spilled, either.”

There it was. A further sprinkling of colour and the ghost of a nasal keen.

Well, then…

"Would you like another one?” Aziraphale asked after a moment.

A nod, small but clear.

The blond fished out another egg and held the whole up to Crowley’s lips. The demon refused to take it, which puzzled Aziraphale, though he didn’t attempt to press it against the other’s lips again. Then it clicked.

He took it back and took a bite. It was a smaller one than the first, at least initially; at the other’s raised eyebrows, he took another bite, leaving roughly half the egg. It meant that he got the yolk as well.

That was, the yolk that had been…

Aziraphale smiled. A devilled scotch egg, eh? Wonderful.

He passed the remainder back to Crowley, who took it just as before, although the tip of his tongue lingered for another second on the pads of the soft fingers.

So it went, sharing the eggs between them until the bowl was empty. Setting it back, Aziraphale tried to see what would make for a good second option. It was difficult, with all that was set out before him.

Goodness, it really had spiralled on him, hadn’t it? Oh, but that pulled at and warmed something inside the angel. To think that Crowley had gone to all that effort, simply because he was coming. He’d know, for all that he feigned ignorance, that this was his first proper visit, which would explain this. To some degree, at any rate, while the rest of it…

It warmed something fierce.

A plate was held out to him, seemingly at random. Only, with the pieces of sushi on, the blond highly doubted it.

He picked it up with his fingers with the lack of chopsticks, foregoing the sauce and such and held it out again. Crowley ate about half of it.

Well, then. So it wasn’t only the eggs, then.

When Aziraphale had eaten his half, there was rice sticking to his fingers. He went to lick them off but his hand was caught and the white dots deftly plucked with a dexterous tongue.

Oh, was that tongue ever dextrous.

The blond needed to shift again, a little more firmly. Not now.

The whole plate of sushi of varying kinds, went in the same way, which included the rice clinging to soft fingers. At one point, one bit of rice found its way down to the webbing of his fingers and the tongue diligently went after it, which made Aziraphale giggle as it tickled.

Each time Crowley cleaned his fingers, Aziraphale remembered to thank him for it, and each time, he got either a noise or a small movement, and often both, while his cheeks gradually showed more and more red.

The angel wanted very much to know how the yellow eyes looked behind the glasses after each instance, but they weren’t for him to remove and so he didn’t.

More food was found and devoured between them. What surprised the blond, however, was that Crowley continued to eat. Not quite as much as at the start but still quite a bit. Far more than he had seen him eat in most of the restaurants they’d been to lately.

Another point was that he became increasingly tactile in his eating. That was to say, he insisted on being fed every little piece of food and would lick, nibble or otherwise touch the other as much as he could, and of course, making absolutely sure that nothing of whatever they were eating dropped or spilled, even when it had some sauce.

The result was that, although the angel had not yet manifested anything, he was feeling quite warm and as though his skin had grown a size too small. There was also the distinct if distant feeling of throbbing in the entirety of his corporation.

However, that didn’t matter. It was only a…a side effect and he shouldn’t let himself be distracted by it.

Such a resolution was all well and good and lasted quite a bit, too. Then, after they must’ve emptied two-thirds of the table, at least, and Aziraphale’s belly felt quite severely full, the trouble came.

Crowley held up a plate of eclairs. Eclairs that, though small and dainty for what they were, were positively bursting with cream. You could tell that with them whole and without as much as having bit into one.

Just as all the other times before, the angel took a piece and held it up to the demon’s lips. Not uncommonly, Crowley refused, indicating with a tilt of his head that Aziraphale should take the first bite. He hardly had to at this point, of course, since it was either one or the other.

Mindful of the cream, Aziraphale took a bite and then almost got some up his nose with the involuntary moan he uttered as the bite hit his senses.

Good heaven, where had Crowley found all these delicacies? A veritable small sea of them and not a one of them without something to recommend it, or several things, just as likely.

He thought he saw and felt the other shift at that but even with his hand still resting on the thigh, he wasn’t quite sure. Admittedly, he was also slightly distracted, to say the least.

A drop of cream made its way down his lips but he managed to catch it with his tongue as he handed the other half to the ginger.

The ginger who took the entire thing in one gulp again, but somehow still managed to claim the piece slowly, cleaning up every little bit of cream or flake from the choux pastry from the angel’s fingers, which at this point were simultaneously ticklish and…sensitive. Which weren’t the same thing at all.

When a trickle of cream escaped and ran down Aziraphale’s palm, the blond shuddered as it seemed the sensitivity had spread. Crowley, however, made no move to go after it, which was more than fair but meant that Aziraphale had to himself.

At the time, perhaps influenced by what had gone before, he forewent a napkin or handkerchief and licked it off, sending a shivering shudder through the whole of his body.

Oh. Really sensitive, then. He would have to be aware of that.

“More,” Crowley rasped a whisper, the first word he had said since they had begun this.

Aziraphale nodded his acquiescence and, finding that the next he picked up without looking was an éclair that looked to be lavender and lemon, which he didn’t think Crowley would like, put it to his own mouth, intending to eat the whole thing.

When he had taken one bite and was about to take the other, however, the ginger leant forward and took a bite. Tried to, at any rate, but the distance meant that he only got the very end of it. Which squeezed the end together and in turn, pressed what cream was left spurting out.

That none of it went into Aziraphale’s eyes or hair was a minor miracle in and of itself, and without any outside interference, at that. As it was, however, there was still enough to send quite a bit out across his face and down his chin.

The angel spluttered, more out of indignity than any issue with not being able to breathe. He’d closed his eyes as the cream had flown but now opened them to try and locate some kind of instrument to wipe himself off with, so that none of it managed to spill down his collar or onto his bowtie.

This truly was –

Before he could do more than briefly and slightly wildly look around himself, though, he felt something touch his chin. That something turned out to be a hand, somehow gently yet firmly grabbing hold of said chin and holding it in place.

Crowley’s face swam in before him, looking rather intent. Aziraphale only dimly managed to register that before the other closed the remaining distance and…

Licked at his chin.

It was a relatively small, careful lick. Nothing like a long slobber from a dog or even a thorough lick from a cat. The following licks were longer but no less careful nor wetter. If anything, it was rather efficient, getting rid of all the cream, which was a ridiculous amount for such a relatively small thing.

For all that efficiency, however, there was a care and attention to the movements that not only made it seem far more than a slightly odd way to clean a face, but brought the skin touched to almost the same sensitivity as the angel’s hand.

His hand on the thigh tightened a little at that then tightened further when the tongue licked its way into his mouth, meeting a perhaps not as skilled but definitely enthusiastic partner to tangle with.

A few moments later, he gave a small noise, not because of the kiss but because of two knees landing on either side of his thighs, effectively boxing him in. Boxing him in further, that was, given he did take up a considerable amount of the space on the chair.

The rest of the demon’s body slipped off so that he was kneeling above the angel but very close to him. As he shuffled himself closer still, he continued to kiss the other and lick at his mouth as if it was an ice cream he had to eat before it melted.

Aziraphale gave as good as he got, though, as he felt tingling warmth flood him.

His hand slipped up from the thigh to a bony hip and then further up, slipping underneath the fabric of the shirt the other wore to splay across warm, taut yet soft skin that it found there.

Crowley pressed into the contact as he broke the kiss and began to pepper the angel’s chin, jaw and throat in kisses. It seemed as if he wasn’t quite done with removing cream, even when his hands came up to start fiddling with the collar and bowtie.

There would be no trace of cream anywhere it shouldn’t be.

“Good boy,” Aziraphale found himself whispering. He hadn’t intended to say it, honestly, but when he felt the ginger stiffen then press harder into every point of contact that they had and heard the suppressed noise from the other, he was glad he did. 

His hand slid further up, pulling the fabric with it until it found a nipple. Crowley pressed into the contact again, almost puffing his chest out in order to get it close. He also shuddered under the ministration and let out something more like a normal moan.

Aziraphale’s sensitised hand came up as well to play with the other nipple, tweaking it between slightly damp fingers. Crowley bucked at that, a clear moan escaping.

There’s a lovely thing,” the blond murmured. He let his fingers trail back down, though the shirt somehow stayed in place where he’d left it.

The ginger pressed into the contact throughout, his forehead resting against the other’s slightly bared clavicle while he tried to open Aziraphale’s shirt and waistcoat all the way. It wasn’t going too well, for the simple fact that he was distracted. Not that anyone could blame him for that.

Nevertheless, he kept at it. He even started to press small kisses to what skin was bared and within reach.

When Aziraphale reached back down to the waistband of the jeans, he followed it with his fingers from the hips and all the way to the middle. The middle which was…

Distended made it sound as if he’d been filled up with gas or similar and in any case, he wasn’t quite that full yet. He had managed to eat quite a bit, however – when the blond, who was used to eating quite a bit when he wanted to, felt full, and they’d shared, it was little wonder – and on such a slim frame that was unused to eating much of anything, it definitely showed.

It showed enough Aziraphale’s hands could cup the slightly firm roundness with both hands. As he did so, he heard the intake of breath.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the top of the ginger hair.

“How well you’ve done, my dear,” he murmured, though he made sure the other would hear him. “Just feel this wonderful belly, how full it is. You’ve done a magnificent job, my dear.”

“Nghk…”

Aziraphale looked more closely at the other at that, to see whether he had in fact overstepped somewhere or were even on the right track.

He had no desire to do anything that Crowley didn’t want to or weren’t comfortable with. That did not turn him on in the slightest, and just because he could feel that rather tell-tale warmth, not to mention the way the jeans themselves had grown more than a bit tighter, did not mean that the other wanted it any way.

Even if he did, he might not want…want all of it. So, tread carefully, it was.

“My dear?” he therefore queried softly. He was about to take his hands away, too, so as not to influence the other or further make him uncomfortable, when said filled stomach pressed into his hands, unequivocally.

“More,” Crowley whispered. “More, please.”

“More of what? Aziraphale wanted to ask but wasn’t sure he would get a usable answer and so kept quiet.

There was another series of kisses to whatever piece of skin was the closest, working its way down so the blond let his fingers slip across the small, unusual curve of the other’s stomach, just enjoying the feel of it and trying to memorise that to the best of his abilities.

He himself had to shift again, pushing his lower half down into the seat. It might be he had nothing there yet, but it was still the easiest place to relieve some of that tingling warmth that was circulating his body.

Meanwhile, Crowley made as quick work of the buttons on the shirt and waistcoat as possible then slipped his hands inside, squeezing seemingly at any piece of softness he could get his hands on. At the same time, he sank further down on his knees, so he was hovering mere inches over the other. Somehow, that also moved him even closer to the soft body in other places.

Aziraphale stiffened then moaned without restraint. Oh, that felt…that felt so good. It wasn’t only his hand that was sensitised, it seemed.

Or maybe it was merely that Crowley’s hands always had that effect or something close to that effect on him, especially when he was…

One hand slipped down back and pressed just above his tailbone. Not hard but enough to make him buck in turn, and by the time he had settled back, his own trousers were…far fuller than they had been.

“Crowley!” he exclaimed. It wasn’t a complaint, though, far from it.

“More, please.”

“Oh, I’ll give you more, you – “A thought sparked. “You clever boy.”

The noise he got from that was smaller than the previous ones but as he at the same time could feel the way the length trapped beneath the jeans fabric jumped, he would venture to think he might be on the right track.

It was best to make sure, though.

“Such a beautiful, sweet thing,” he whispered. “And so clever, too, doing so well.”

One hand slid up to gently squeeze at the curve of the belly while the other slid down, without opening anything, to cup what lay trapped beneath.

The effect was immediate; Crowley let out something that might’ve been a suppressed keen or maybe a whimper, pressing up hard into the hand cupping him while his own hands dug into the flesh they held. Hard.

At any other time, that might’ve hurt, but right now, it only made the angel bite his lip and groan quietly.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Yes! Please!” Another, smaller but somehow no less intense buck. “Please…”

Well, then, who was Aziraphale to try to argue with that?

First, though, he needed better access.

With a deft hand, he flicked open the button and slid the zipper down. Crowley didn’t buck as his erection slipped free of the vee of the jeans nor as the blond slid it out of the rather flimsy underwear and into his hand. In fact, there was no particular reaction to it at all, apart from the slight twitching of the erection now in his grip.

Just as Aziraphale was about to ask whether he was sure, however, he found his lips caught and coaxed into a kiss. He tried to pull back in order to ask the question, but the ginger followed him, keeping the kiss going, licking at every conceivable surface of the inside of the angel’s mouth.

Not that Aziraphale could help trying to give as good as he got, mind, even though he knew the distraction technique when he saw it.

As it happened, Crowley moved himself closer still, however he managed that, and wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. By the sound of it, he caught hold of the metal of the chair behind them, presumably for an anchor.

Interesting.

That was going a bit far, though, wasn’t it? Jumping ahead, as it were. That wouldn’t do, even though it was nice to have confirmation that this was indeed the right track.

Crowley tended to, instead of voicing anything clearly, to give small and varied indicators of what he wanted, and even those were often as not non-verbal. To have directly said what he had was already more than he usually gave.

Aziraphale was therefore used to both needing to ferret out any indicator he could possibly get, however small, to be sure of the other – asking outright could as well have the opposite effect as the intended and hoped for one – and to get fervent, passionate little displays.

This was somewhat more pronounced than usual on the former though not on the latter and perhaps no wonder, considering that…

He could do it, though. They both could, and they would both benefit from it. Of that, he had no doubt, now.

If Crowley had trouble expressing what he wanted in a concise and direct manner, then perhaps it was an idea to allow him to give up needing to express it. To allow him, insofar as it was possible and comfortable for him, to…

Yes. That would be…and the reaction he had to being praised, especially in circumstances such as this…

Aziraphale broke the kiss, but gently, tempering it with several smaller kisses as he shifted his grip on the length still in his hand. He hadn’t otherwise stimulated it, despite the light pulsing it did, despite the way the hips shifted.

“Let go of the chair, dear,” he instructed, softly. There was no reaction. “I’d like you to put your hands down my back, instead. Come now, let me feel your hands on my skin again.”

That seemed to do it; without a word, the arms slid backwards enough that the hands could slip underneath the open shirt and unto warm skin. Which shivered, this time mostly from the metal-cold touch.

Still, the blond made sure to say, “Thank you, that’s much better.” It didn’t quite have the same effect as the outright praise, but it would do. For the moment, it would do.

Slim hips rocked slightly forward as Crowley sought Aziraphale’s lips for another kiss. This time, the blond avoided it outright, but pressed a kiss to the curve of the nose instead.

Another attempt was avoided then, and Aziraphale tightened his grip a little, which earned him a proper buck. A hand slipped from his shoulder blade and darted down towards his own trousers.

“No,” the blond said, catching the hand with his own free one, holding it firmly when it tried to pull free. “No, dear.” His voice was as firm as his grip, though neither got hard.

“But I – “Crowley began, then made a grumbling whine that he would never admit to otherwise. The slim torso pressed against as much of the softer one beneath it as it could.

“Not yet. In good time but not yet. Just hold on for now. Hold on wherever you need to, that’s fine, but I don’t want to not feel your hands holding on all times. Is that understood, dear?”

He stared up into the sunglasses which stared back, wide-framed, glassy and unresponsive. Only the faintest hint of what lay behind them were visible and even then, the angel had an inkling that it was as much due to his own brain filling in the blanks, as it were, as it was actually being able to see behind them.

No matter. He still knew, for the most part, how to read his demon, sunglasses or not. He had had a lot of time to learn, after all.

After another moment, he got a nod and the hand moved, not back where it had been but to the angel’s side, just beneath his ribs where the paunch you might call slight love handles were. He tried not to feel self-conscious about it as the bony hands gripped and held on. It would do.

“That’s it, my dear, just what I wanted, well done,” Aziraphale said and watched as another shiver made its way through the body. Furthermore, he felt the muscles in tensed thighs twitched, the cock jumped and there was another buck of hips.

Good.

It might not be subtle, but it worked and that was what mattered in all this right now.

Returning his other hand to the other’s torso, somewhere between chest and belly, the blond started to move his hand. It was only small gestures at first, light and short and without any kind finesse other than going back and forth in an almost leisurely fashion.

Nevertheless, Crowley made a small noise that quickly became a series of small, aborted noises and rocked into the touch, attempting to match each stroke and draw out the time he was touched.

Odd. It wasn’t that long since they had been physical, and thoroughly physical at that – Aziraphale could quite vividly recall much of what they’d got up to and he had to subconsciously swallow – and yet Crowley was acting as though he had not been touched properly in absolute ages.

What could possibly be the reason? Because there had to be a reason, even if Aziraphale didn’t know it, and it might –

And that was for another time. Speculation was for afterwards. Physical intimacy was partly about being in the here and now rather than getting swept up in the inner thoughts and the maybes.

Right now, he had a demon who needed some attention. All the attention he could get, in his own way, though he didn’t seem to be aware of it, and Aziraphale was more than happy to provide him with it.

First off, he tightened his grip once he got to the base. Not hard enough to hurt but enough that the ginger made a choked-off noise as he jerked lightly.

There. That was a start, even as it also made the angel himself shudder, mostly due to his sensitised hand.

Shifting his grip a little, he slid his hand upward, keeping the pressure on the erection all the way up and then back down. Just as he established the beginning of a rhythm, enough for Crowley to start rocking into again, he stopped, loosened the grip and slipped up much quicker, his fingers almost dancing across the heated, tautly smooth skin of the erection, which made it twitch and bob underneath his ministrations.

That went on until he got to the top, where he dipped his thumb under and around the crown and just a little into the slit.

He heard an expletive and felt precum press against his thumb.

“Angel, please…”

“Please what, dear?”

“Don’t…tease…”

“I don’t mean to tease, only to provide you pleasure. You’re doing so well, Crowley my love,” Aziraphale said, softly.

He gripped the length as before, continuing in the rhythm that he had established before, and got a distinct ‘nghk’ for his efforts. Or possibly that as a result of the praise. No matter. So long as Crowley was feeling good, that was all that mattered.

And he was doing so well, too; he didn’t attempt to grip the chair at all, not even when Aziraphale a few moments later reached down with his free hand and cupped the testicles beneath the erection, running his thumb carefully across the skin, right between them.

He did almost shoot out of the chair altogether at that, admittedly, but it wasn’t

“Aziraphale!”

“Should I stop, my dear?”

The look he got at that was withering, even through the sunglasses. It quickly transformed back into one of pleasure, though, helped by the blond picking up the pace and starting to twist his hand on every third stroke.

Well, usually at every third stroke. There were…other options, ones that had the demon squirming, panting and moaning at increasing intervals. All that came out of his mouth in terms of words, however, were the angel’s name and ‘please’.

At some point, the rocking, or rather bucking, started up again, stronger and more determined than before, pushing up into the grip each time a soft hand slid down with an accuracy that astonished the other a little, given how increasingly lost in the moment, as it were, Crowley seemed to be.

Not that that wasn’t a beautiful thing, not to mention…well…

Aziraphale could feel his own manifested Effort leak more and more as he watched Crowley take his pleasure and had to shift himself. Oh, bother, why hadn’t he thought of it before now…but if he were careful, perhaps he could keep it from –

That plan went right out of the window when, on the slide back up, the demon then chose to press down where he otherwise had hovered right over the other’s lap.

Aziraphale might’ve increased the pace then in order to get the up off his lap as quick as possible, so that he might not press hard enough and long enough for the stain to soak more than the undergarments he wore.

It worked, though for a very given value of ‘worked’, to the point that the blond was rather proud, in a strange way, that he wasn’t an incoherent mess himself, mostly because he then couldn’t keep his focus on where it should be, not because there was anything wrong with being an –

“Angel, I can’t, I’m going to…fuck, I _can’t_ …”

The voice became a repressed groan as the body bucked forward and back at the same time, unable to work out what direction to go. The blond couldn’t blame him, not least because his own hips had pushed upward in anticipation of meeting the body above.

“It’s okay, my dear,” Aziraphale said, planting a kiss on the nearest bit of skin. It was trembling beneath his lips.

When exactly had the shirt been opened all the way? Pulled apart, by the look of it, which only puzzled him further as he couldn’t for the life of him remember when this had happened.

“You’re not required to hold back, though. Not ever and not now.” No, that was the wrong tack. He knew it the moment the words were out of his mouth. The words were perfectly fine in themselves, but they were wrong for the situation.

Something else was required.

Perhaps something…

“You’ve done so well up until now,” he murmured instead, slowing the movement to almost non-existene and loosening the grip, much to evident, audible frustration, “I know you’re not about to let me down now. In fact, I know you’ll do beautifully.”

He moved his other hand back up to the skin curved by an unusual amount of food, rubbing it gently, which earned him a moan and a hard quivering of muscles. The trickle of precum was quite steady now, even as the length seemed to harden even further.

“You’re going to let go,” he said, trying to gauge the reaction to what he was saying, “and you’re going to ejaculate, as hard and for as long as you can. Isn’t that right, Crowley?”

There was a small, plaintive mewl and a buck that pressed the whole of their fronts together at that but no actual answer.

He tightened his grip on the cock but didn’t otherwise move his hand.

“I didn’t quite hear that, dear. Try again, please.”

“Yes.” It came out a moan. “Yes!”

There’s an obedient, good boy. Now, let go.” As he spoke, he pulled upward in one long, tight movement, twisting as he went.

Whether it was the praise, the command or the touch that did the trick, he never entirely knew, but whichever it was, Crowley bucked hard one last time with a groaning keen then froze in place, his mouth falling open as his cock ejaculated hard, semen almost exploding out.

It went over Aziraphale’s hand…no, in fact, it went far past the angel’s hand, spurting up his stomach and onto his chest, and that of Crowley’s, too, given their proximity. Some of it even hit Aziraphale’s cheek and the underside of the demon’s jaw.

The blond felt his trousers moisten and then soak through and gave it up as a casualty. Of all the things to have possibly stained his clothes, stains that he would have memories of being there, this was not what he would’ve expected but was possibly the most…

Pleasurable.

As he closed his eyes in his own pleasure as it flooded through him, he almost missed that Crowley began to tremble and then shake as his orgasm continued to batter through him. Another keen escaped his lips, though there was something like a mewl to his voice as well.

Oh, no. He wasn’t supposed to get overwhelmed…well, not like that, at any rate.

Shaking himself out of his carnal stupor, Aziraphale hurried to open his eyes and wrap his arms around the shuddering, shaking figure in his lap. The bucking was still there but it was weak and you’d be hard-pressed to tell whether it was into more stimulation or away from it.

“Oh, my dear,” the angel murmured. “Oh, my wonderful love, you’ve done so well. Such a good boy you’ve been, so beautiful and sweet. It’s okay, now, it’s okay. You just let go of everything, it’s alright, or stop, if you need. Whatever you need, you can have it. You’re safe. Come here. Wrap your arms around me, that’s it. Yes.”

Part of him couldn’t help but feel guilty that he hadn’t taken this possibility into amount when he’d thought of this. That if it gave Crowley such…to do what he was told in some way, then you had to be careful with what you asked of him. With how you phrased what you asked, at any rate.

Aziraphale had no desire to, however inadvertent it might be, cause his demon harm or distress in any way. Especially not when he was supposed to be taking care of him and Crowley had trusted him enough to do what he said. That was…

Unacceptable, that was what it was.

He expected, once the ginger had wrapped his long limbs around him, for Crowley to bury his head in Aziraphale’s throat or neck as he shook and moaned his way through this prolonged orgasm. The moans didn’t sound pained, honestly, only…overwhelmed and overfull, as if there had been too much of a good thing, but that the things was still good.

The thing that Crowley in fact did was to press his cheek against the angel’s, then press his lips against it instead, kissing gently across it until he came to the other’s lips, which he caught with his own.

Aziraphale was about to protest that Crowley didn’t have to do something like that when he realised that no, he did in fact have to, because he needed it. With that thought in mind, he pressed back without question.

They kissed gently as at what seemed like at long last, Crowley’s ejaculation subsided. The mess between them was…well, it turned out not to matter whether Aziraphale had stained his trouser himself or not, because the demon’s semen took up the slack.

Part of the blond was rather disgusted and wanted it gone immediately but the rest of him knew where his priorities lay.

The kiss broke and Crowley at last buried his head in a soft shoulder, making small noises all the while. Noises which were tired and overwhelmed but spoke of contentment, too. A contentment which, by the sound of it, only seemed to grow as the angel murmured soft encouragements and praise and he slowly began to relax.

His trembling didn’t entirely stop but neither did it seem to bother him.

Oh, that was a relief. They would still have to talk about it, naturally, and they would, later, but it was reassuring to know that he hadn’t had a bad reaction to this experimentation.

Apropos reaction, though…

Even as Aziraphale continued to hold him and things seemed to calm, at no point did the demon’s erection flag or wane. Nor had it earlier, when he had stopped or slowed, come to think of it, not in the slightest. Of course, that could merely be that he’d been aroused enough that it weren’t able to wane, which had happened before and was…honestly, rather flattering, even if it’d also made Aziraphale undeserving of such a reaction.

Now, though? He had never seen Crowley still be engorged properly like this after he’d finished ejaculating, let alone as hard as he had been before he’d come.

What was going on? Was it something to be concerned about or did he just need to let the other have a bit longer of a respite so he could come down from it properly? It had been something of an ordeal, hadn’t it? Only without the unpleasantness such a word implied.

To ask Crowley wouldn’t yield a very coherent answer, quite apart from it not being fair to him in this state.

Well, he would wait a little while and see what happened. If it went away on its own, then that was all good, and if it didn’t, then he’d have to find out whether Crowley wanted to do something about it or not.

For now, he would clean them both up as well as possible and then make sure that the demon was kept warm and comfortable.

They would work it out.


	2. Safe in his care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley wakes up, though he still feels rather floaty and out of himself. He isn't at all worried, though, because he has someone there that he trusts implicitly. Their name will come to him in a bit, he knows, and for now, they'll take care of him.  
> In more ways than one, it turns out, very happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's! Here, have some smut/smuff.  
> Thank you to the very sweet people who left feedback on the last chapter, you are very sweet. Here's to hoping you like this part, too.

As he sat there, with no response from Crowley and no indication that the erection was waning, a plan slid into the angel’s head and refused to go away even when he tried to nudge it out or even outright shove at it. If anything, it only seemed to solidify in his mind.

But it was…there was no way he could…he had no idea whether…

Only, he had, didn’t he? If Aziraphale were to venture an assessment, after gathering the various evidence that had been left throughout this, it looked as though Crowley was…that he was more affected by touch than he normally tended to be, which was saying quite a lot, honestly. Not only that but he craved it more, too, and craved to be…well, to be taken care of. To feel safe in a position where he didn’t have to think but only act and feel.

That it had manifested in something more…carnal than it might have in Aziraphale did not surprise the angel though not because Crowley was a demon or that he as a consequence was used to having people touch him.

One might think that would’ve made him more averse, if anything, considering the conditions in Hell, and Aziraphale the one craving touch, bearing the conditions in Heaven in mind. While the latter was true, the former was not and the ginger tended to touch the blond as often as he could get away with it nowadays, which was quite a lot.

Considering all of that, perhaps it wasn’t too surprising that he was still…in the grip of that need, as it were, after only one time being able and allowed to express it.

If Aziraphale asked directly, however, there was a not inconsiderable risk that the demon would deny it, somehow, and that was providing that he was in a position to answer, which it didn’t seem to be.

Should he just wait it out, then? Or ought he risk trying something without having Crowley’s permission?

_Like what you’ve just done this first bout, you mean?_

He had got permission for that, though. Alright, not unequivocal and vocal but even so…

Besides, what if Crowley didn’t snap out of it, as it were? What then?

The angel deliberated for a moment or two longer then, with a small but decisive nod, came to a decision and a conclusion.

Yes. That was what he would do, and if it was a problem then…first of all, he would stop and then he would explain the situation so they could pick up the pieces together and put them back.

He pressed a kiss to the nearest part of the ginger he could reach and tightened his grip.

It would be as good as he could make it, in each and every way.

“I promise you that, my dear, and that you’re safe no matter what happens,” he whispered into the other’s hair. There was no response, but that was alright, too.

All in good time.

* * *

Crowley blinked as he surfaced. Well, for a given value of ‘surfaced’, at any rate, and even then, he didn’t feel sure that he had.

What had happened? Oh. Of course. Yes. He remembered. Sort of. It was somewhat fuzzy and didn’t become less so as he continued to blink and get a grip on what was him and what wasn’t him.

For one thing, when had he got up? The last thing he remembered was…was…

Well, he was sitting down, he remembered that much. And that he was warm and safe where he sat, too, with no threat, from a distance or close by. In fact, he had been as safe as he could remember feeling. Even now, when his mind was not at its sharpest, he had no sensation of wariness or suspicion, and that was rare enough to warrant notice.

Nevertheless, there was a gap between sitting down and standing here now that he couldn’t explain and the fact that he didn’t feel uncomfortable or worried about that…worried him.

Something else bothered him, too, something which he couldn’t put a finger on, though he did try, struggling through the fuzziness. It was important. His clothes? His jacket was gone, entirely, and his shirt was as good as gone, really. Looking down, his jeans were holding together and

No, that wasn’t it. What, then? Something…something missing…no, some _one_ …

It slipped away from him before he could catch it and the pleasant fuzziness grew. No, wait, that wasn’t –

Taking a step almost sent him staggering, and not because of his jeans. His legs were…

“Careful now, please,” said someone from off to his side, unseen up until now. Unseen even now, too, really, though that was because his eyes had closed as he stumbled.

A shiver ran through him at the comment, the gentle, concerned ask, very pleasantly at that, and he found himself without any desire to open his eyes, at least just yet. It didn’t make any difference to be able to see the room with his head so…fuzzy, although that made it sound as though he was drunk or drugged.

He didn’t feel like he was either, honestly, and he had plenty experience of both, in a plethora of guises, so he knew his own assessment was right, at least. No, this was more the fuzziness of a sleep that has simultaneously been far too short and gone on for too long, leaving you dazed and muddled and yet somehow, entirely warm and comforted.

What helped was that presence off to the side. In his muzzy, heavy fuzziness, he might not be able to neither see them nor work out who they were, at least not enough for a name, but he didn’t need to know. He knew that he was safe, that they were safe. Knew it with every fibre of his being, a knowledge which couldn’t be shaken from him.

It would come to him who this was, and he would feel stupid for not working it out himself, but until then, he was more than happy to stay where he was.

Well, apart from the way his legs were shaking, of course. He could live without that. More immediately important, he needed something to steady him. It wasn’t too bad with his eyes closed but neither was it getting any less than it was.

“Turn around.” Though without any please added, it was still a request rather than a demand – just as all the others had been, honestly – but Crowley followed it without question or hesitation regardless, even though with his eyes closed and his legs unsteady, it wasn’t the easiest of tasks.

He did manage it without any injury, though, and was rewarded with a hand on his hip to steady him and a warm, lingering kiss on his shoulder.

“Good boy,” was whispered into his skin, but loud enough for him to hear it clearly. It sent a shiver through him, as hard as before.

For a moment, a long, suspended moment that seemed impossible to break, everything stood still and held its breath. Feeling the fuzziness in his brain slowly give way to something else, Crowley kept his eyes closed as stood motionless, supported and safe, with no instructions, nothing for him to do for the moment other than _be._

Be and feel, that was. Normally, sensations were quick flashes, faint or strong depending on the situation, the place and the giver. But right now, as the muzzy sensation began to clear in both body and mind, it seemed as though someone had flicked on every single ‘on’ button that he had and now even the air moving from the window and the cold that came off its glass was enough to send sensations up through his body. They weren’t strong enough to demand his attention and definitely not enough to distract him. It was more of a pleasant background buzz or perhaps more accurately, a gentle, careful anchor to the here and now. To the world around him.

To Aziraphale.

It meant that he could float and be without being scared of drifting away entirely, and of then not being able to return to his corporation.

That he was safe to feel and be in equal measures and only those.

Some small eternity, or possibly only a scant few minutes later, fingers slid up his side, slowly, carefully, just the very tip of them gliding across his skin as though he would break if more pressure were applied.

Right then, it felt like a distinct possibility.

When the fingers reached his arm, they didn’t stop or slide around. Instead, they continued up the arm, in the process ever so gently encouraging him to lift said arm. He did so, willingly, and even lifted the other arm at the same time without prompting.

To what purpose, he didn’t know, but then, he didn’t need to know.

There was a hum of acknowledgement that might just have been another ‘good boy’. Whether one or the other, Crowley hummed back as another shiver ran down his spine.

The fingers slid all the up to his own hand, where they tangled with the fingers, which they then guided forward, still so very gently. Crowley didn’t resist, not even when his warm palms met the cool smoothness of glass. Nor did he open his eyes.

He knew where in the flat he was and what he had to be leaning against. It wasn’t as though he’d moved since he’d closed his eyes, after all. However, he couldn’t find it in himself to care just at the moment. About that or much of anything else.

The post-orgasmic haze in his body contributed to that feeling as it continued to pulse through his body, long after it honestly ought to have started to fade.

“Other hand, too,” was whispered, and, nodding ever so slightly, he let his other hand fall forward, still stretched above him, until it reached cold smoothness.

It was another anchor, more tangible than the other but no more significant and no less important, and he was grateful for it.

“There we are,” the soft voice of the angel murmured. “That’s better, isn’t it? A firm surface to rest against. Don’t worry, it will not move a bit, I promise you, no matter what happens. You’re safe here.”

Crowley didn’t think for a moment that he wasn’t safe, but when he opened his mouth to say as much, all that came out was a long, humming breath.

Aziraphale, however, seemed to take that as confirmation, because there was a small, pleased hum in return and another kiss, this time to the back of his neck.

Another moment of silence passed, then another.

Crowley was just beginning to settle in, to where he might truly begin to float, when the hand still on his hip was removed. Or rather, it was slipped down, down, along with a hand on the other hip, and with it, what remained of his clothes. It wasn’t much, but apparently even the jeans and underwear needed to go.

For a moment, they pooled on the floor, still around his ankles. Just as he started to lift a foot to get them off – there wasn’t so much as half a thought spared to whether he looked elegant or cool as he did so – however, he felt the hand on his leg, halting him.

But he needed to get the things all the way off, otherwise there was no point to shimmying them down.

And in the moment that he had thought it, the jeans were gone, removed by some means other than hands.

He didn’t wonder why the blond hadn’t done that in the first place rather than…

The hand returned to his hip, running softly up and down along with the hand on his other hip. He didn’t notice it, but they managed to encourage him to slide his legs a little further apart.

While they did so, another kiss was pressed to the back of his neck, then another. It was light and just a little bit cold, though that might’ve been his heated skin. Closing his eyes, he focused on those kisses as they fell on his neck and then further down, over his shoulders and down his spine a little.

Each kiss seemed to take him a little higher and a little further until soon enough, when the hands on his hips were gone, all that he could feel, all that he knew in that instance was the sensation of where the lips touched and the tingling spots they left behind. Nothing existed beyond those.

For how long he floated like that, he had no idea, and in any case, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

It was only when the lips pressed on one of the still tingling initial spots and then stayed there that he began to gradually notice the warmth behind him. Namely, that it had got a little warmer and more than a bit closer.

Still, pleasantly fuzzy and almost empty though his brain was, he had the distinct feeling that he didn’t want to have that warmth at any distance at all, and so he pushed up against it as best he could. Given how he stood, that wasn’t a whole lot, not helped by his equal knowledge that he shouldn’t move, but it was enough to just about touch that warmth, fleetingly but properly.

He moaned and tried again. Something touched him at the side, telling him that he shouldn’t move. He almost whined. How was he supposed to, if he weren’t to move, to come into contact with that wonderful warmth? Which he needed to. He knew he needed to, somehow.

Yet…

Yet he didn’t want to disobey, either. Unable to quite articulate why that was, and not only because of his current state of mind, he knew that the last thing he wanted to do was disobey what he had been told. If he did, then…

No. Just no. He would not.

There had to be another way to get that warmth closer, though.

Please. Oh, please. He needed that warmth. Needed it outside, on every spot of them that existed.

Inside, too.

Inside? Did he - ? Yes. Yes, he did mean that, even though he didn’t know what that even entailed. He only knew that he needed it.

Please.

There might’ve been another noise, possibly a mewl, and something touched that side and more, then, going up and down in a way that soothed him, almost as well as the kisses had. He relaxed against the void that held him up and let the warmth of that one gesture soak into him.

Oh…

Possibly, there were some words there as well. Some that sounded not unlike, “You’re doing so astoundingly well, my dear, I couldn’t be any prouder of you.”

Though he wasn’t sure he’d heard that right at all, the thought that he might have heard right and what those words meant, that he didn’t need to have the mental threads connected to understand and it filled him with a sense of accomplishment and pride, quite apart from the heavy frisson of pleasure and delight it sent through him, that threatened to send him floating clean away.

Anything negative that might pull it down had been excised from their mind by the earlier actions, like someone brushing down each and every cobweb in a house patiently and thoroughly.

“Now, can you stay perfectly still there? I promise I’ll take good care of you.” This time, the words somehow came through to him clearly.

Of course he could. He could do anything that was asked of him, he felt adamant of that, especially when it was that voice who asked. They didn’t even have to say they would take care of him. He knew that already, implicitly and thoroughly. It was as self-evident as the fact of his own existence.

Oh, yes…

He hung in that suspended lightness for a small eternity, just basking in the floating and the warmth without a care in the world.

Then, the warmth spread, suddenly and rapidly. Why? He wasn’t about to complain but –

Oh. Yes. Of course.

But he did what he was told, despite the warmth touching the whole back of him – he had a back? Did he have a front, then? – and remained perfectly still.

Something slipped through something soft on top of…hair. It was his hair it was going through, and ‘it’ was probably a hand.

Oddly, despite coming down into something a little more…corporeal, as it were, although the floating had felt nothing like being discorporated from what he’d been told, not to mention being a little bit more clear-headed as a result, he still had the sensation that he was drifting along, light and only barely detached.

It was the best of both worlds.

“Beautiful,” was murmured, so close to his ear that he heard it loud and clear. “Such a beautiful thing, in every single way.”

He preened at the praise, although he didn’t move a muscle. Instead, the warmth seemed to press further into him, radiating out in little pulses that settled into them, turning tingling as they did.

No, not tingling. More…sensitive than that. Throbbing, only shivery. As though the warmth was a touch in itself.

It made him feel, though there was no mistaking where the physical hands touched, as if he was being touched all over at once. He moaned again and arched without moving.

Then he became aware of a concentration of warm right…right between his arse cheeks, and he moaned louder.

Yes……!

Inside, yes. That was what he meant. What he wanted. No, needed.

Needed.

He might’ve said something like _‘please_ , Aziraphale, I need…’ but it could well have been garbled nonsense by the time it reached his mouth.

As another kiss was placed softly just where his jaw met an ear, a hand trailed down and down, squeezing at a cheek once, twice before it withdrew.

Only to slip in beside the more intense warmth, and for a finger to then slide underneath the source of that warmth. Crowley almost broke the promise to keep still at the shuddering shiver that ran through him then at the sensation and when the digit circled a particular spot and then slid _inside_ , even it only a little, he broke it by bucking and pushing into it with some force.

He could hardly help it, though, could he? Even if he could, the pleasure of the sensation overrode any sense of guilt.

Oh, yes. Yes! More of that, much more of that. As much as possible, deeper, as deep as –

The finger withdrew, quickly, and Crowley mewled in disappointment, trying to chase it. At the same time, a hand landed on his hip again, with more strength than before. Although it wasn’t harsh, it suggested clearly that moving was not the desired option.

The guilt of disobeying trickled, then streamed in, threatening to become a flood. He made a choked noise.

“All in good time, my dear,” came the voice, calm, unruffled and all the more commanding for it and for its gentle kindness. “For now, I want you to remain still and patient until I say otherwise. Can you do that?”

A command masquerading as request. All he had to do was follow it and he would be…

He would be right where he should be.

So, he relaxed again as best he could, lowering his head between his shoulders and was rewarded with not only a kiss on the shoulder, but the finger returning, slicker than before. It circled, dipped, circled again and finally slipped properly inside. Not that far but as it then began to circle again, Crowley couldn’t find it in him to care.

Nor had he the presence of mind to wonder at the angle or dexterity, as the warmth of the erection – that was what it was! – continued to pulse against his cheeks.

When the finger withdrew entirely, he only protested verbally and at that, the noise barely got time to form before two slipped in, circling still but moving back and forth, too.

Crowley’s legs started to tremble when those questing fingers began to scissor, all the while still moving back and forth in circles, and he was glad to have something to lean his weight against and gain support from.

Especially so when they found something inside that made his entire body spasm. As it was, his hands scrabbled for even firmer purchase on the surface. But he didn’t move an inch.

The hand on his hip shot out and around his waist, keeping him in place, keeping him from falling. Helping to keep him grounded, even as he was starting to float more again.

Helping him not disobey.

Hold on…there was a…that had sounded like a question, hadn’t it? A question needed an answer, otherwise it wouldn’t be a question. Only, he had no idea what that question was, let alone how he ought to answer it.

When no answer to the question came, it was repeated, just as gently as before. Then repeated again, a little bit louder, the third time seeming to be the charm.

“Are you alright, my dear?” the voice asked, and he sounded genuinely concerned as well. Was there something he knew that Crowley didn’t?

If he did, however, the demon trusted his angel to take care of that as well. Because right now, he most definitely felt alright. More than alright. He was floating higher than ever, even as he was tethered firmly and yet in a state where he could think, and the sensations running through him were pleasant and that was at worst.

He managed to nod and even smile, though he wasn’t sure his angel could see that. Talking wasn’t likely to get past the gibberish state and this needed to be communicated clearly.

The arm around his waist slid upward and tightened, bringing him closer in a strange sort of hug. Which, given that his skin was still very sensitive, to say the least, only made him moan in pleasure once more.

“Just keep still, my love.”

But of course.

Then, the fingers inside him slipped back, only to slide right back in, setting up a rhythm that still circled more than it thrust inside, the scissoring coming just often enough that he was kept a trembling, gently moaning mess of pleasure.

The pleasure was helped by the free hand which had taken to roam over every part of his front that it could reach. It never stayed and it never got more tangible than the lightest of touches but perhaps exactly because of that, it made whatever nerve-endings hadn’t been awakened already into a string on an instrument, vibrating with the touch and crying out to be plucked again.

A part of Crowley, hidden beneath the floating and swimming part of his self, was rather surprised by the response or, more accurately, by the intensity of his reaction. Not that he was complaining, not in the slightest, he just…it wasn’t as if he was new to all this business of carnal pleasure. Very much the opposite.

But perhaps that was precisely reason for it. After all, hadn’t –

Whatever thought had half-formed then vanished as Aziraphale pressed against his sweet spot more firmly and for longer, despite the length of the fingers, bringing unrestrained pleasure battering through him.

“Aziraphale!” he cried, the name coming out loud and clear. He did not move.

The fingers, all three of them – when had it become three? – slipped out in one smooth motion. Almost like another lap of a wave upon a shore, he was not left empty for more than a moment as the warmth slipped into fill the vacancy.

To fill him.

_Fuck._

The expletive sliced through the floating and the spasms and everything pleasurable but somehow only enhanced them all.

Even as he thought it, however his hands began to scrabble for further purchase as they started to slip on the surface of the glass, the perspiration that had accumulated, unnoticed, between the warmth of his palms and the cold of the glass making his purchase, such as it were, tenuous and unable to be sustained.

He didn’t want to disobey and yet…

In his state of mind right then, he didn’t think as far as finding a way in which he could make his hands adhere to the glass in some way and honestly, if he had done it without thinking, then…well, then they would have something else to concentrate on entirely.

It was just as well, then, that a hand shot out, seemingly from nowhere, catching both of his hands, somehow, and pressed them back against the glass. Not hard and Crowley felt in no way uncomfortable or even boxed in, even though the body behind him was pressed firmly up against his back and he wasn’t far from the glass, either.

At the same time, though, he got the strong impression that his hands would stay put, even if Aziraphale was to remove his own hand. He wasn’t stuck, he was merely…secured. Safe.

So he didn’t have to worry about disobeying by slipping but didn’t have to think about it, either.

Something burned most pleasantly inside him at that, something very different from the way his body otherwise felt warm, or the body behind him did.

Inside him.

The whole incident with the hand shooting out to catch his hands had pushed the body behind him further into him, which hadn’t only pushed him against the glass in turn but had slid the length inside almost all the way inside. At least, he felt as if it couldn’t have pushed another half-inch.

To say that he felt full was much like saying a volcano was hotter than a fireplace. Technically accurate, yes, but somehow failing to give the whole picture or a sufficient frame of reference.

Oh, fuck, yes!

He might have let out a noise as he did so, or he might even have said those very words, he had no idea. It was hard to keep track of it all.

A nose nuzzled into the side of his face, affectionately, and he turned his head in that direction to try and touch. To kiss them, but also to see them.

He opened his eyes at last when he felt their noses bump together and saw…

Saw his angel.

His Aziraphale. Of course, he had known it was him – who else would’ve made him feel so taken care of, so utterly safe? Who possibly could? – otherwise, it would’ve been…this would’ve been a horrible situation. But it was nevertheless comforting to see those familiar eyes, warm and loving, look back at him from a non-existent distance.

Aziraphale smiled, the light in said eyes not unlike Christmas lights, and nudged their noses together further. He nudged something else as well.

“Aziraphale…” the demon breathed.

“Just let me take care of you, my dear,” the angel murmured. He removed his hand from where it had been tangled with Crowley’s fingers and let it drop, seemingly into doing nothing. So the ginger thought, until the hand wrapped around his own erection.

How had he up to this point not even registered that he was not just aroused but hard to a point that should be almost impossible to miss? He had no idea but as the blond wrapped his soft fingers around it, Crowley’s hips bucked of their own accord.

Then they bucked backward into the cock inside of him, loath to lose any of that warmth, that fullness. Neither did they want to –

He almost vibrated as he was caught between the two desires and didn’t know which to try to fulfil. No, he most definitely vibrated.

“Aziraphale…!” he moaned, or possibly whined. Oh, he felt so close already, and they had hardly even begun.

That he couldn’t bring himself to care that this might be over very shortly said a lot. So long as the angel didn’t stop, Crowley was more than happy to be along for the ride, whether a sprint or a marathon. Preferably a marathon, but…

The hand let go and his hips bucked into nothing. A nothing made of glass, that was, which pushed uncomfortably and yet somehow deliciously against the length of him. He let out another noise that might’ve been a whimper or might’ve been a louder moan.

“Shh, it’s alright. I promise, it’ll be alright,” the blond murmured. He sounded a little bit uncertain, of all things, which puzzled Crowley inasmuch as it could in his current state. In any case, it disappeared almost immediately. “Relax now, dear, you were doing so well. So absolutely perfectly, my good boy. Let me…please let me…”

He trailed off, which puzzled the ginger. There was no reason to. He was taking care of him, in every possible way.

Words seemed to have left him again, however, and so Crowley did the next best thing that he could think of; summoning a small surge of concentration and determination, he captured the angel’s lips with his own, clumsy though it was in his state, and pressed against the glass only to push his hips back firmly, impaling himself on the length pulsing inside of him.

That made Aziraphale jerk and groan into the kiss. What made him grab Crowley by his hips and hold him in place, however, was likely the way the ginger squeezed his internal muscles.

When the angel broke the kiss, he was breathing heavily. However, he only looked at Crowley, who stared at him with a bit of a grin, for a moment before he smiled in turn.

It was a smile full of promise.

Holding onto the hips firmly, the demon’s lower half only a few inches from the glass, Aziraphale pulled back, back until it seemed certain that he was going to slide out entirely. There he paused for a moment, two, as though he was waiting for something.

Whether he got it or not was never quite clear, but in the next moment, he slid back in, in a long, smooth stroke that spoke of someone who knew what they were doing. He didn’t slam back in but then, he didn’t need to. This was much easier to control, and Crowley was certainly not complaining either way.

He wouldn’t have the presence of mind for it. He had been brought out of his floating somewhat but the pleasure more than made up for it, the heat of the erection pushing into him and filling him somehow growing in intensity.

If anything, though, the rhythm in combination with continued kisses to the back of his neck and everywhere else the lips could reach, seemed to bring him back into that floating but tethered state which cut him loose from any concern he might have had. Well, mainly.

At the same time, it seemed to enhance every sensation, too, so that his sensitivity never wavered or faded but only grew. The cold that came off the window, whether he touched it or not, made him shiver for different reasons than the touches that skimmed endlessly over

Though he thankfully didn’t notice, his feet had slid somewhat further apart, to better balance himself as his angel took him, again and again, pressing him against window over and over again.

Crowley knew he was panting. Knew he was trembling and moaning, too, even as he did his utmost to stay in place

Something was missing from all this, though. Something that he…that had been there before and which he wanted back. Needed back, in fact, only he couldn’t grasp what that something was, let alone articulate it. All he could do was enjoy things and hope that whatever it was, it would occur soon.

Which, of course, it would, because Aziraphale would know. He would know or he’d work it out and the moment he did, he would give it to Crowley.

Just as he would keep him safe, he would know what he needed. In this as in everything else, really.

He therefore let himself relax back into it, standing perfectly still and letting the feelings wash over him in waves of pleasure and comfort that somehow at the same time never seemed to break, only build and build, winding him up tighter and tighter, his skin tingling and heated, his limbs quivering, his nipples almost as painful in their hardness as his cock, which continued to brush its head against the glass lightly enough to be maddening.

“Open your eyes, dear,” the angel requested after a small eternity had passed, any trace of uncertainty or hesitance entirely gone from his voice as though it had never been there in the first place. Which it might not have been, outside of Crowley’s imagination.

Aziraphale knew what he was doing.

The demon did as he was asked, obviously, lifting his head in the process. This time, however, he looked out rather than to the side, and stared, uncomprehending, of what was outside.

The whole of London.

Or, if not the whole, then at least a portion of it, and a not unimportant part of it.

Which, of course, would make a whole lot of sense. It could only make sense, really, as this was his flat and therefore, his view. The view that he’d seen so many times – he didn’t always have his blinds closed, after all – that he had at some point stopped recognising it as anything real.

Now, however, he could look out and he could look down and as he did so, he realised, even in his floating state, that there were people that could see him. Even up this high, there would be someone out there who could see him, or if they couldn’t, then he was still visible to…whoever might be looking down, as it were.

Of course, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t had his share of sexual experiences of varying degrees outside, too. At some points in time, there was very little choice. Even when there was, though, there had been a certain thrill to it, when Crowley was involved, at any rate.

This, on the other hand…there was a huge difference between doing something furtively, where you try to remain hidden and there’s nevertheless a risk that you might get caught and seen by someone, or just seen, if their interests lay otherwhere, and doing something brazenly openly, almost calling out to the audience to come and drink their fill, as it were.

_All the world’s a stage…_

Yes, that was very helpful, wasn’t it, William?

This was, however, a stage. A shopfront. A display window, laying it all bare in front of…of anyone who might dare to look.

Then, of all things, he felt his cock throb and jerk, his balls draw up a little further.

He was…but that was…

Something flashed somewhere nearby and his cock throbbed again at the thought that it might be someone looking.

Fuck!

How had Aziraphale known? Or had he –?

He didn’t get to finish the thought as fingers wrapped around the length of him, the tight grip and warmth of them a shock to the system after the cold of the window that, in combination with someone down on street level turning their gaze upwards, was –

A helpless, deepthroated moan shot through him as his cock erupted, painting the glass in front of him in long ropes. Jagged ropes, admittedly, as Aziraphale had at no point stopped thrusting and now he’d sped up again. The hand let go and grabbed bony hands instead, pushing them wider and higher on the glass.

Pushing him closer to it.

Displaying him. Showing him to the world.

Crowley moaned again, deeper and throatier even than before, his eyelids fluttering as his head fell backwards and his hands twitched, held in place by the broader, softer ones.

He kept his eyes open, though, and though his head found support, it was the side of Aziraphale’s, which pressed into him.

“Good boy,” the angel said, his voice clear and certain yet soft, despite the growing strength and effort he was putting into his thrusts. “You are my most perfect good boy, my dearest Crowley, and I’m so proud of you. So proud of…of everything you are, but especially that you aren’t afraid to look out, to know. To let them see. See what I see, see what you have, what you are. Someone beautiful and precious, too good to be hidden away. Too wonderful to not be appreciated to the fullest by the world.”

The way he said ‘world’ would, later when the ginger was in a state of mind to consider it, indicate to Crowley that he was only perfunctorily talking about the human world and its inhabitants. There was also a hint that the blond had said far more than he’d intended to with that, at least out loud, but that he wasn’t in a position to stop.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley moaned. It was all that he could get past his lips.

Higher brain functions, whatever had remained of them after the feeling of floating had carried so much with it, had been further assaulted by the orgasm, and forming coherent sentences, or even sentences at all, were at that precise moment somewhat beyond the capabilities of what remained.

Not that he knew what he’d say if he could say anything. Maybe a ‘what’s happening?’ would be appropriate, however; despite his having just come, extensively before petering out, Crowley was surprised to find that he was still keyed up. That his erection showed little sign of waning.

Multiple orgasms were…well, normally he only experienced that kind of thing when he had manifested a vulva, complete with clitoris. To have his cock still hard and by the feel of it, not far off from another orgasm was…

Fucking heaven and their divinity!

Through it all, the angel kept pushing into him, steadily, and murmuring endearments, encouragements and praise.

Aziraphale!” he moaned again, almost whimpering. It was too little, too much, too wonderful. A sensory overload and an overwhelming mental showering of…

Of love.

The angel somehow moved even closer still, plastering himself to the skinny body which in turn was plastered fully to the planes of the glass, unable to move, his penis trapped.

Crowley didn’t care. Couldn’t care. His world once again boiled down to disjointed sensations as he was rattling, speedily yet somehow more slowly, or possibly with more force, towards another climax. One which would…would…

He could feel the cock inside him harden, somehow, and though he wanted to push back, wanted to keep the dick from pulling back and leaving him – Aziraphale shouldn’t be able to move in that position, really, let alone deliver such quick yet powerful thrusts but the demon was grateful that he could – there was nothing he could do but try to hang on as they climbed higher and higher together, Crowley no longer floating but soaring upwards.

Up, up, tighter and tighter, higher and higher, warmer and warmer.

With one last, almighty thrust that really should’ve sent the ginger through the window, Aziraphale froze as his orgasm battered through him. He might’ve made a noise, but it was hard to tell as the moment before he froze, he nudged at Crowley’s head and then buried his head in the bony shoulder, his mouth clamping around a piece of flesh. Not hard enough to break skin but definitely hard enough to bruise.

When experiencing all of that at once, let alone all that went before, then it was little wonder that Crowley’s own orgasm not only battered through him in turn, the output smaller but somehow more intense for all of that, but seemed to take what little brain with it.

He may have shouted, might’ve screamed, could possibly have whispered or said nothing at all. Any was likely and he would not have been able to tell you either way. The only reason he knew he’d forgotten himself somewhat and had done damage to the glass was because the cold of the glass went underneath his nails and stayed there. They might even have penetrated something. If they had, though, there was no pain of it.

All he knew was pleasure. Pleasure and safety.

Then, after what seemed like a minute eternity, those faded and darkness took their place, wrapping him in its warm, soft embrace, telling him that there was nothing to worry about. Everything would be alright. He only needed to rest, everything else would be taken care of.

The darkness seemed able to touch him, gently running through his hair and over his cheek. But why should darkness not be capable of that? In the moment, it seemed only right that it should.

He gave in and let the darkness swallow him up in its cocoon entirely.

* * *

Aziraphale watched as Crowley slipped off into unconsciousness, though he hoped it was in fact proper sleep instead. At least now, he seemed relaxed.

Relaxed was perhaps underselling it somewhat, given the almost boneless way that the lanky body lay in his arms, head lolled onto his shoulders, mouth open and every limb dangling from their sockets.

It honestly looked quite uncomfortable, from the angel’s point of view, but he knew from experience that Crowley was most comfortable when his limbs were in some way out of joint or otherwise pushed or pulled oddly. That was just part of him.

Aziraphale certainly had no intention of letting his dear be uncomfortable. Not after…well, he might not have been uncomfortable, let alone pained, but that wasn’t…

And that was not a subject to be thought about now. Right now, what mattered was taking care of his demon to the best of his abilities.

Which, seeing as the ginger was shivering, should mean getting up from the cold floor and into bed was the immediate priority. He did so, but then conjured a blanket from seemingly nowhere and draped it over the skinny body, which earned him a murmur. A murmur and a snuggle into the soft warmth. Of the blanket, too.

It was only then that the blond realised he hadn’t in fact removed any of the…remnants of their lovemaking – whatever Crowley said, or however rough, strange or ‘kinky’ it might get, Aziraphale would always consider what they did as lovemaking rather than mere copulation, or fucking, to put it like the demon would – before he had put the blanket over him.

Oh, well, no matter. He could use the blanket to wipe away the worst of it when he reached the bed then throw it in the corner. It was more important to keep Crowley warm. Warm and safe.

Safe and protected.

He walked towards the bedroom, leaving the mess of the living room, or possibly office, behind without a backwards glance. There was time to deal with that later.

A light snore emanating from the head resting on his shoulder confirmed that Crowley was indeed asleep rather than unconscious. He knew that snore, after all. Its sweet lightness hid a more nasal, fretsaw melody to come which, depending on the situation, could give way to a whole little cacophony of saws. An orchestra, almost.

Well, then, that was only good. It meant that whatever had happened, the ginger’s body was not so out of sorts it couldn’t pull itself together into its normal pattern of behaviour in a given situation.

That he hadn’t brought Crowley that much grief…

No. He couldn’t say that. Not yet and not from only so few indicators. That would only give him a false…was it negative or positive that was the right one for this occasion? Regardless, the fact of the matter was that he would have to wait and see.

Oh, he should’ve asked, but it had seemed so…

Aziraphale sighed and placed the lanky body down on the bed as carefully as he could. He probably could’ve let it drop from his arms and the demon wouldn’t even have felt it or otherwise notice, though of course he wasn’t about to do that kind of thing.

Taking a look at the sleeping figure, he sighed again. Then he smiled.

He had made his own bed by making that decision without talking it through with Crowley first as he ought to, and he would have to lie in it, however it turned out.

However, for now his focus should be on taking care of his demon in a more physical sense. So, he placed a kiss on the other’s temple, which earned him a small mumble and what could potentially become a smile, and then got on with it.

* * *

When Crowley woke up, he had a very disorientating moment of working out not only where he was and what had happened, but who and what he was. It was very rare indeed, but he had experienced waking up…in a different shape than the one he’d fallen asleep in.

What shape was that exactly? Oh. Right. Snake. That was it. He was the Serpent of Eden, the original tempter, the…the one and only Anthony J. Crawly. _Crowley._

As soon as his name clicked into place, so thankfully did his whereabouts, and while exactly how he had come to be here was still somewhat hazy – the last clear memory he had was from the living room, not his bedroom, and this was definitely his bedroom – the panic that had momentarily risen within him at not knowing who and what he was died away again as though it had never been.

It helped that when he looked around, he found an achingly familiar figure sitting at the corner of the bed, apparently deep in some kind of reading material, Crowley couldn’t see which it was, beyond not something the ginger could ever remember owning, not even as a joke.

Honestly, though, he didn’t really believe that his angel was all that absorbed in it, whatever it was and wherever it came from. After all these years, he was able to tell when he was absorbed in something, to whatever degree, and when he was merely pretending or just attempting to be absorbed.

This here was definitely leaning more towards attempt rather than pretend but regardless, it wasn’t genuine. A fact that was confirmed when, the moment Crowley stirred, before he had even made a noise, the reading material was lowered and Aziraphale turned his attention towards the ginger.

He began to turn back again, however, and Crowley sat up properly, intending to shoot his hand out to catch the other. Before he could, though, the blond turned towards him yet again.

Oh. So you are awake. Good. I thought that I had – that what I saw was nothing more than you turning in your sleep again rather than…though of course, I wouldn’t want to wake you before you were ready to – “

He stopped, blinked once or twice, looked down at the thing in his hand as though he wasn’t quite sure what it was doing there, then put it away. That he didn’t look to see where he put it told Crowley quite a lot.

“I’m glad to see you awake and I hope you are well after the rest,” Aziraphale said, without looking up. He did sound sincere, though, and Crowley wished he knew what he ought to say to make it better. To be frank, he wasn’t sure he knew what he was to make better, but that didn’t really change anything. Nor that his mind wasn’t in the best of conditions at the moment.

Silence reigned between them for what felt like a lot longer than it was, but still, it was enough to send the demon, even as he tried valiantly to formulate something that could make…make his partner not feel nervous, into something of a doze. Quite the doze, honestly.

At last, it seemed that Aziraphale had gathered himself enough to get at what he wanted. He definitely looked…better than he had. Much better, in fact, though not quite…

“I have a small question, my dear, if you feel up to answering it.”

It took Crowley a few long seconds to register that something had been said let alone what that something was. Apparently, he was more tired than he had thought he was, which was frustrating and annoying, not least because he felt he had just lost his grasp on something he needed and couldn’t put a finger on what.

When he did register it, he lifted his head – when had he let it fall in the first place? – and gazed at the other. Though he hadn’t tried to speak yet, he somehow knew that all that’d escape his mouth was noise, without words, let alone useful words.

His angel still looked a little nervous, behind the warmth and comfort and stability that formed him right then and always, a rock but one which was sitting somewhat on the soft covering of moss or similar, which, while not enough to topple it by any stretch of the imagination, did send it rocking.

Why could he find stupid metaphors but not the right words he needed in order to…to…

Crowley nodded, to be sure that Aziraphale knew he was up to answering, even though he had no idea what the question or the answer would be.

It seemed the angel understood that as well, for he gave a small, mildly resigned yet wry smile. “Perhaps this isn’t the right time or the best time to be asking a question such as that. Do forgive me if it isn’t.”

The ginger reached out and grabbed a hand, squeezing it gently. Just because he was reduced to non-verbal communication for the moment didn’t mean he couldn’t do his best to communicate.

Aziraphale smiled softly as he squeezed back, equally gently.

Can you – would you please check, within yourself, whether what I did was o – that is, would you take some time to think on how you feel about the direction our, our lovemaking took?”

What? What was he on about?

The angel looked at the demon’s look of puzzlement, head pulled back a little as it tilted.

“Oh. No, of course, that was…I can hardly expect you to immediately know what I was thinking of, merely because it’s been taking up a lot of my thoughts, can I? I meant that…”

He had to pause again, then, and frown. When he bit his lip and seemed to hunch in on himself, his thumbs twiddling ever so slightly around themselves, Crowley began to edge himself forward, with the intention of closing the distance and wrapping his arms around his angel.

While there were things that he didn’t quite get about all of this, at least not just yet and not only because of the cobwebs still thronging his brain, he knew that Aziraphale was not only nervous, but upset and nervous because he was uncertain and upset.

He also knew, with almost crystal-clear certainty, that the other shouldn’t be feeling upset for any reason. That he had no reason to. Of course, that wasn’t the same as saying he was silly for feeling so or that he should just stop. That wasn’t how it worked.

But he could try to make Aziraphale understand that he wasn’t in the wrong, when he knew what it was that had upset him.

“During our lovemaking, I – I tried some things,” Aziraphale said, very quietly yet with a firmness to his voice that showed he was going to go through with this, come what may. “Some things that…that went beyond what we discussed, insofar as we have discussed – and most certainly beyond what we have done before, and I took the…the liberty of – “

At that, he broke off, closing his eyes. He didn’t seem to have noticed that Crowley had slithered closer to him as he spoke. After only a moment, though, he reopened his eyes, gave a small, decisive nod and continued, without looking to either side.

Well, if it were easier to stare at nothing, Crowley weren’t about to stop him. Things seemed difficult enough for Aziraphale right now, after all.

“Of trying them out. You seemed to enjoy them. Very much so, at that,” the demon saw him smile at that, briefly, before fading into the worried squiggle line, “but that is not the same as saying that you are, in fact, alright with, with any of it, and I quite frankly ought to have checked with you beforehand before I so much as tried to push you into it. I am truly sorry for what I’ve done, and I can only hope that you will – “

This time, the reason he stopped speaking was because arms wrapped around him, not tight but with an encompassing quality that their wiry length seemed incapable of, while a cheek rested against the top of his head.

“And what if I don’t mind?” Crowley asked, quietly. “Don’t mind any of it and think you have nothing to apologise for?”

“You can’t say that!” Aziraphale all but cried, though he kept his body entirely still. “You’ve only just woken up and can hardly be expected to remember all the details, let alone come to a final decision on such an important question without time to deliberate!”

“Who says I haven’t had time to deliberate?”

“But you can’t have!” The angel pulled away a little at that, so he could look the other in the eye. “How can you, when you don’t even know what the things I did was?”

“I might’ve been a bit…floaty, angel,” Crowley shot back, looking mildly affronted, despite the soft, relatively warm expression he otherwise had, “and am still somewhat, but that doesn’t mean everything is gone. So what if you found out I have a praise and obedience kink, about the same time I did? You didn’t abuse it – no, you didn’t. You just didn’t. End of.”

He smiled but ploughed on before he could be stopped. “Should we maybe have talked about it a bit more or at all? Sure. But it’s not as if you haven’t done things in bed without consulting me first – producing a feather and tickling me to orgasm springs to mind – and I’ve never complained before, have I?”

No, but that – you were still in a position to, to complain at that point. Or say no. You weren’t in that situation. Not at all.”

“Which is why I retroactively absolve you from that responsibility and guilt.” Crowley had the cheek to grin. “There. Angelic gesture done.”

“That was hardly – oh. I see.”

Crowley touched their noses together and made sure he had eye contact. “I trust you, angel. I’ve always trusted you and I still do, sexually and otherwise. Got that?”

He got a hesitant but genuine nod. “Good. I felt safe throughout all that and I feel no less safe now than I did before you came here. Nor will I – and if that is another argument for how I shouldn’t or what you did is awful, then…then I’m going to cram your mouth with the first thing at hand.”

He watched Aziraphale’s eyes widen at that. It puzzled him until the penny dropped. Then he laughed.

Not that – though there’s an idea. Later, though. I meant whatever’s left on the table. Though we might go through that, anyway. I could do with something to eat.”

He nudged the other’s nose a little harder. “Won’t you feed me, angel? I’m feeling…hungry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worried Aziraphale snuck in there all on his own but...well, it's like I said last chapter, really.  
> A lot of this is new territory for me to write, smut-wise, apologies if that shows. I enjoyed it, at any rate.

**Author's Note:**

> Because it's...me, again, this ended up a bit long and so it'll be two rounds of smut. Smuff. Whichever. Honestly, I find pure smut without characters being characters boring to write so...but I hope this was alright, nevertheless. Oh, who knows...I try, though.
> 
> Feedback, if you keep your criticism constructive, is loved and treasured.


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